


Reasons To Be A Brat

by anonniemoose



Series: Beetlejuice Oneshots [3]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Bratty Reader, Cockwarming, Cum Eating, Cum Play, Daddy Kink, Degradation, F/M, Facials, Mafia AU, Mafia Boss Beetlejuice, Public Sex, Spanking, Vibrators, look there is a lot i'll tag later once my brain has reactivated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonniemoose/pseuds/anonniemoose
Summary: Beej has been boring you with meeting after meeting. You decide to tease him a little as punishment, but it doesn't end the way you planned.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader
Series: Beetlejuice Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562617
Kudos: 96





	Reasons To Be A Brat

**Author's Note:**

> Got a request to do a smut prompt on tumblr, doubled with the discord chat I'm in producing some quality filth, this was born. You're welcome. I have no shame except for the fact that my writing is slightly embarrassing.
> 
> Tumblr is, as always, the-ineffable-prince-of-hells if you wanna chat or do a request.

This did not end the way you had planned it.

Beej had been working on something big, to be honest you didn’t really pay attention when he was telling you about it because you didn’t really care. All you knew is that, in his mind, you were just his side piece. You didn’t need to know the ins and outs of running his business.

So, when he asked you to join him at his meeting, you could already feel the boredom setting in. Usually you’d just play on your phone in his lap or have a nap, but this was the third meeting this week he wanted you to attend with him and you were over it. So, you decided that you were going to have a bit more fun with everyone than you usually would.

You forwent the striped collar he got for you that he insisted you wore whenever you had to attend anything to do with his line of work, and went with the shortest, tightest dress you had, the one that always got him in the mood, with the hells that made your legs look like they went on for days. Anything that made people know you were his stayed off of your body, any jewelry he bought you stayed at home. You made sure that you had your makeup done perfectly before leaving to meet him at the club which, of course, is why you were late.

Everyone had already gone in and were beginning to get set up, the meeting had yet to start but Beej always enjoyed it when you were there to greet everyone together, his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you flush against him so everyone knew you were his. He didn’t get that this time around.

He physically relaxed when he saw you sneak through the door but looked slightly confused when you didn’t instantly rush to his side with an apology before slowly turning angry at the lack of collar, or anything that really marked you as his, and the choice of clothing you decided to go with.

Good.

You spent the next twenty minutes working your way around the room, flirting as hard as you could, sitting in different men’s laps whilst throwing your legs across the lap of the man next to your latest target, fiddling with ties and collars as you giggle over stupid jokes and shitty stories, complimenting each guy as you go.

You could practically feel Beetlejuice’s rage from across the room as you drift from man to man, flat out ignoring him as you go. Finally, everyone makes their move to sit at the table ready for the meeting to commence and you make your way over to your seat - Beej’s lap. When he doesn’t sit down, you look at him.

“Did you have fun playing around, doll?” His voice is low in your ear and as rough as gravel.

“I was simply saying hello Beej.” You say sweetly. “You gonna sit down so we can get this over with?”

“Over the table.” You pale slightly. You were hoping to rile him up a little, but that voice only means one thing. “Now.” You quickly move to bend over the table, pressing your face and chest against the cool, hard wooden surface with your hands either side of your head. Something goes over your head and when you lift it to help him get it down your neck, you realise it’s his tie. You choke a little when he pulls it tight, the room otherwise silent as Beej gets you set up.

“Can I stand up now?” You ask quietly.

You yelp when you feel his hand connect with your ass, already feeling the sting from the impact. “Not on your life.” Came his low voice. “Ignoring me, toying with me, not a good idea, was it Y/N?” You swallow as you feel his hand connect with your rear again, shame filling you as your already short skirt is hiked up above your hips and your panties are pushed down. You’re already soaked through, turned on from the idea of teasing Beetlejuice for so long and knowing that you were probably going to get a good dicking as a result. He was, after all, a possessive bastard.

You consider that perhaps he would felt the need to stake his claim in front of those you flirted with.

He clicks his tongue, you’re not sure if in disapproval or not, before you hear his zip and feel him slowly press into you.

You bite back the sound resting in your throat when you feel him stretch you the only way he can, forehead pressing against the wood as he bottoms out. The first thrust surprises you, causing a moan to fall from behind gritted teeth, trying your best to stay quiet as he fucks you hard and deep. You could feel yourself working closer and closer to your edge, you just needed a bit more. The tug of his tie gets your head to snap up and make eye contact with one of his men, who looks clearly turned on and is trying (unsuccessfully) to hide that fact.

“Tell them how it feels.” You shudder at the order, squeezing your eyes shut as you shake your head furiously. “Look at them and tell them how I feel inside of you.” This time, he was firmer. You’d already pushed his limit once tonight, you don’t think you’d survive a second time.

Your eyes snap back open as you go to obey his command. “He feels - oh fuck - he feels so good! He’s so thick, he stretches me so much it nearly hurts!” You let out a loud cry when he hits that one spot that always makes you quiver. “Please, I’m sorry, just let me cum!” You beg.

“Apologise.” You close your eyes again but a hand snatches its way to your hair and pulls so they snap right back open.

“Sorry, Daddy.” You gasp out, hands now scrambling to find purchase on the table as you dig your nails on.

“For?”

“Being a needy, little brat! For pretending to want to whore myself out! For attention seeking! For ignoring you, Daddy!” You can feel his glare on your back as you push back slightly, trying to gain a bit more friction.

“Can anyone fuck you like I can?”

“No, sir!” You can feel yourself reaching the end.

“Does anyone else fill you like I do?”

“No, sir!” So, so close.

“Can anyone make you cum like I can?”

You are practically sobbing at this stage. “No, sir! Daddy, please!” Just a few more thrusts and you’re there.

He pulls out, and you let out a loud noise of protest as he sits in his chair. “On your knees.” You are quick to the floor, moving to where he was pointing under the table. He guides your head over his cock and holds you there. “Keep me warm.” Is his only instruction as he pushes your mouth over him, all the way to the hilt.

You can taste yourself on him, mixing flavours as you keep yourself from sucking, his dick hitting the back of your throat in an almost tempting way. The weight of him on your tongue is distracting, you can barely hear what’s going on above you as you sit, thighs apart with your hands on his lap, waiting for your next instruction as you feel your drool slide out of your mouth and down your chin into his lap.

You don’t feel his feet moving until his shoe is pressed against your already sensitive clit, rubbing at it as you struggle to not rock against him or start sucking his cock, really wanting him to fuck your face as he gets you to ride his foot until you cum.

The moment you’re close to cumming, however, he stops and moves his foot away, leaving you to sob as your body quickly cools down and there is a hum of just needing to get off already. A few minutes pass before his foot returns, you try your best to hide how close you are in the hopes he will let you cum, but he knows your body too well. When you get to that edge, his foot is removed and you are left to suffer in silence.

Again and again, he brings you closer to the edge before removing the one source of stimulation you have as you struggle to not start blowing his mind but instead remain to be the perfect little cockwarmer for him. Your body is almost aching with how badly you need to cum when his hands weave their way into your hair and his hips roll against your mouth, forcing himself in deeper. “Do not swallow.” Was your only warning before he pulls back and cums in your mouth, pulling back once more for the final lot to land across your face. You already know what he wants, so you open your mouth wide so he can see his load on your tongue. He barely looks down long enough to see if you had followed the rules before looking back up, wiping his spent cock across your face so the last lot of spit and cum smears across your cheeks. He doesn’t order you to spit or swallow, so you sit there, cum on your tongue, the only thing you can smell and taste, not daring to spill a drop, as he concludes his meeting.

That’s when he finally looks down at you, a wicked grin across his face. “You can swallow now.” You do so quietly, maintaining eye contact as you do so. He pulls you up and helps you pull your dress down as fair as it will go, kicking your heels off so the emphasis on your legs wasn’t so apparent. “Go say goodbye to everyone.” You look up at him, shaking your head slightly. He can’t be serious.

But he is. The look in his eye tells you that he very much is. “Go on, whore, you wanted the attention. Now get it.”

You shuffle forward to the door to say goodbye to each and every member of the gang in the room, refusing to make eye contact as your face flushes red at the state Beetlejuice has left you in. You can feel his eyes on you but, unlike last time, you weren’t enjoying it. You could also feel everyone’s eyes on you, taking in as much as they dared with the don watching over them. You could hear the arousal in some of their voices when they say goodbye, the fear of overstepping the mark in others. You didn’t catch the few who actively looked you over, a new version of you forever seared in their minds. Beej takes notice of those who do, knowing that they would not survive the week. When everyone had finally gone, you’re humiliated, overwhelmed and so turned on. You turn to look over at the very happy Beetlejuice, a small whine escaping your lips. Everything had flipped on you and you weren’t happy. He pats his lap with a smirk.

Finally.

You rush over to perch on him, but that’s not what he was after. He repositions you so you’re straddling him, cock already pushing against your entrance again. “So, babes, did we have fun?” You shake your head as he guides your hips down, already beginning to ride him slowly. “No?”

“Hurts.” You get out. “Need to cum.” The low chuckle that falls from his lips does not make you think you were going to be cumming any time soon.

“Shoulda thought about that before you decided to make yourself available to every man in the room, sweetcakes.” You whimper at the possessive tone in his voice. “Was that performance all for me?” When you just continue to ride him, not bothering to dignify his question with an answer as you chase your orgasm, he smacks your thigh. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Daddy, it was.” Your response is quiet. “Please, can I cum?”

“Not yet.” His hips thrust forward, causing you to lose your pace as he starts to grind up against you, grunting slightly. You feel him cum inside of you with a growl before lifting you up and off of his lap. You fall to the ground, slightly breathless as you look up at him, eyes wet.

“Daddy, please can I cum?” You beg. “I’ll be good, I’m sorry I made you made, please just let me cum.” You babble, almost insane with the need to climax. The look he sends down to you makes your stomach drop, one of disinterest.

“No. Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He growls out before getting out of the chair and begins to get ready to leave. “Shoes on, we’re going.”

“Can I wash my face?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

The walk to the car is short, but you feel like everyone’s eyes are on you. Mascara running down your face, lipstick smudged, with his cum still marking your face. You looked like the $2 whore that you felt like you were.

You don’t even dream about sitting on the seat next to Beej when you enter the car, kneeling on the carpet in front of where you would be sitting, eyes all but glaring at his shoes as he reaches over to pull you closer, hand absentmindedly rubbing through your hair as he plays with his phone. It does little to calm you.

By the time you got home, you were practically vibrating. You’d been fucked twice and still haven’t cummed, you were so close to saying ‘fuck it’ and dealing with it yourself that Beetlejuice could practically feel the frustration coming off of you. He gets out of the car and helps you up, you still avoiding eye contact with anyone. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and forces you to look up, making eye contact with him, purring at the sight that greets him. Jaw set, eyes like daggers, still marked up with his cum like a good little slut.

He pats your cheek condescending. “Go clean up.” You storm past him, grumbling something about him being a jerk as you make your way to the bathroom, ready to forget that today ever happened. He watches you go off, smirk still plastered on his lips. That’s what he loved about you, the bite. Always keeping him on his toes.

You make sure to slam the door of the bathroom shut as you make quick work to remove the now dry and flaky cum from your face, followed by your smeared makeup, changing from your dress to a pair of shorts and a loose shirt, ditching the push-up bra for ole ye faithful cotton, deciding to give your girls a rest. You were still buzzing with need, but you didn’t want to push him over the edge. The last time that happened, he didn’t even so much as spare you a glance for over a week. It was torture.

Still. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

You slowly move to the study, throwing his tie against the dresser as you go. If you were going to get yourself off, you were going to be doing it on a soft surface and the best place you had found was in the one chair facing the fireplace, where Beej would sit with you on your knees, fucking your face over and over until you became a pitiful mess. 

The only problem with the sex chair is that it was in the study. Where Beej was most likely going to end up.

You could be quiet, you’ve been quiet many times before. Surely, he won’t notice.

You ignore him as you move past his desk and to the large leather chair, curling up and pretending to be scrolling through your phone. He looks up and rolls his eyes, not even bothering to acknowledge how petty you were being. You broke the rules, you get punished. That’s what happens.

You discreetly move your free hand down your shorts until you find your clit, slowly beginning to rub as you finally feel as if you’re going to achieve what you’ve been wanting since Beej first slid his cock into you. Your entire body warms as you bite down on your lip, hips rotating slightly as you continue to play yourself like a fiddle, bringing yourself closer to that edge that you have been all too familiar with today. You hear Beetlejuice sniff at the air and growls.

**“If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for  
the next week.”** He warns. “Stop touching yourself.”

You ignore him and slowly move to slide your finger inside you, feeling your way to your g-spot so you can start massaging that to bring yourself off quicker. You are almost there when you feel someone’s hand lock around your wrist. Your eyes snap over to a very pissed off Beetlejuice, squeezing your wrist tightly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop.” You raise an eyebrow and rub your clit with a loud groan, just to spite him. He growls and rips your hand from your shorts before throwing you over his shoulder and marching straight for your bedroom.

You bounce on the bed when he throws you down, but you don’t dare move as he stalks over to the toy cupboard, bringing out his favourite rope and vibe. You don’t care at this point what he has planned, you just gotta cum.

“Strip.” He commands as he shucks off his jacket and slowly rolls up his sleeves. You are quick to obey, sitting on the edge of the bed nude with your clothes thrown haphazardly off the edge of the bed in the direction of the bathroom. He nods his head. “Back on the bed, arms up against the frame.” Once you’re there, he leans over the bed and ties your hands to the bed frame, rope wrapping around your forearms, so they are pressed together before winding up to your wrists, keeping them clasped together with your wrists around the conveniently placed vertical piece of wood. His hands batter your thighs apart slightly, binding them to the other side of the frame with practiced ease, humming along to a tune under his breath as he does so. You are shivering in anticipation when he finally brings the wand vibe up and presses it firmly to your clit, making sure to secure it in place by wrapping the rope around your hips and thighs in a make-shift holster, with the only purpose to hold the vibe flush against you. When he turns it on, you let out a whine and grind your hips up slightly as he backs away and sits down in the chair in the opposite side of the room, toeing his shoes off as he ignores you, texting someone on his phone as you cry out.

It doesn’t take much for you to cum, almost embarrassingly so. The vibe on full power against your already sensitive clit as you grind down makes you see stars in a matter of seconds, your body shaking as you cry out as you finally cum for the first time that day. You fully expect Beetlejuice to get up and turn it off, leaving you tied up to suffer for a while, but you were content with that.

But the room remains silent bar the hum of the vibrator as he continues to ignore you and dread fills every cell of your body.

Oh.

Oh no.

You can already feel orgasm number two creeping up on you and you are not ready as it shatters its way through your body. Numbers three to six come quickly as you scream your way through them, body now trying to actively escape the vibe against your body. You soon lose count as orgasm after orgasm washes over you, not really stopping as the next one crushes over you. You are exhausted, and your entire body is twitching when you call out to Beetlejuice, raising your head slightly so you can see him.

“Beej? Please, make it stop. I’m done, ok? I don’t wanna cum anymore.” You plead. He simply looks up with you, mock confusion marking his face.

“But Y/N. I thought you wanted to cum.” He smirks when you cry out again as another climax washes over you, hands now scratching at each other as you try to wiggle away from the source of your torture.

You don’t know how many times you cum, but eventually you become a babbling mess, not making sense as you plead for it to stop, face blotchy as you cry, spit dribbling down from the sides of your mouth. You were a mess.

Eventually, you stop. You stop trying to escape the vibe and just accept each climax as it comes, even when it begins to hurt your body, like pin pricks in every single part of your skin. Your delirious babbles turn to small whimpers and then nothing, throat aching from the cockwarming from earlier and the screams that have been ripped out of them since. You could barely keep your eyes open as you let out a small, defeated whimper as you feel your body shudder against the vibe once more. You don’t feel Beej crawl onto the bed to turn it off, or him untying each bound with care, kissing the sides of your wrists that are now bruised and chaffed. You barely feel him gathering you in his lap once you were completely untangled, rocking you slightly as he presses kisses against your temple.

“You did so well, little one, Daddy’s proud.” He praises, kissing your temple again. He smiles when you turn in and reach up for a kiss, which he provides as his thumbs rub at your sides. “Let’s get you into the bath, ok?”

He carries you slowly to the bathroom and puts you in the warm, bubbly water. You sigh happily as the heat makes its way into your sore muscles, making your way over to the demon when he slides in with you, resting your head on his chest as he holds you close and lets you drift, hands moving to rub at any sore spots you may have as he continues to praise you gently. You all but purr when you feel his hands in your hair, washing away the sweat that has built up during the day and massaging the final pieces of stress from your body.

Your head is full of cotton wool when you get out of the bath, still clinging onto Beej as he wraps the towel around you and brings you back into the bed. Everything has been cleared away as he puts you in the middle of the bed, leaving for a split second to grab you a bottle of water before joining you, chuckling as you all but clamber onto him, needing that closeness. You drink your water slowly as Beej continues to hum under his breath, the vibrations from his chest causing you to relax in his hold.

You can barely string a thought together as you lay in silence, sleep becoming inevitable as the fatigue hits your bones.

“Did good?” You ask quietly. Beej smiles down at you.

“Did wonderful, sweetheart.” He praises. “Took everything I gave you without much complaint. I’m very proud.” You feel every part of you swell with happiness. “But if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I won’t be so merciful.” You snuggle in closer.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” You manage to piece together. You can practically feel the eye roll.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.” He instructs, even though you already are halfway there.

Sure, your plan didn’t go as expected.

But it’s not like you’re complaining.


End file.
